Man, It's Hot. It's, Like, Africa Hot.

It's FEBRUARY. I'm knitting with wool and feeling like I should just bag this knitting thing altogether and find another hobby, more suitable for this climate. Maybe learning to breathe underwater.

Update to the breakfast cheesecake recipe, should anyone consider trying it: the cooking time given and oven temperature is, as one may suspect if one has ever made a cheesecake, bogus, unless one is using some sort of giant springform pan that creates a cake 1/2 inch thick. In my large springform pan it took much, much longer, and I finally kicked the temp up to 350 and just baked the sucker until it was delicately golden and - and this is a good thing in a cheescake - no longer a LIQUID. It's good, and looks and tastes like a cheesecake. I'm not entirely sure about the "breakfast" concept, but I could see this with fruit and coffee, it has a kind of cheese-danish-substitute appeal.

Another thing that had appeal - the carnations I brought home from the office. Boris found them on the bathroom vanity, where I'd put them for safekeeping. He knocked them over trying to eat them, and Dudley and Murphy had a party. Murphy, who is so damn picky he rejects nearly all dog foods and many people foods, EATS CARNATIONS. Like they are chunks of filet mignon! The roses had finally wilted and the carnations were destroyed, so that's it for fresh flowers around these parts for a while. We're all about gracious living at the house of the bossy dogs, from our floral salads to our frosted cat snot windows. I'm expecting an offer from the cable "fine living" channel any day now.